Rule Number One
by Jul3s
Summary: Don?" Charlie asked sleepily. "What, buddy?" -- "Do you ever have jam in your head?" A little kidfic written in response to the latest Numb3rsWriteOff challenge on LJ. I played Schmoop this time.


Another little challenge piece written for Numb3rsWriteOff on LJ. Kid fic! That was strangely refreshing for a change. :-)

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**Rule Number One**

by Jules

It was 9pm and Don Eppes was grumpy. Sulkiness wasn't usually a prominent feature in his personality; at eight years, Don's mind was occupied with baseball and hockey and generally having fun, so holding grudges or being ill-tempered definitely took a back seat in his life. But it had been raining all day and now a huge thunderstorm was raging which was the reason for his recent disgruntlement.

Tomorrow was his big day in Little League and rain was the last thing he needed. The field would be slippery and muddy and in the worst case, the whole game would have to be canceled. He really, really didn't want that to happen, because it would mean yet another week at least of waiting until he knew if he could move up into the minors. Usually, that would've been decided before the next season, but his coach was so impressed with his performance so far this year that he wanted to see him play with the older boys this weekend and decide then. He and his Dad had practiced all spring just for this and aside from finding a way into his Mom's cookie stash without her noticing, this was his biggest goal right now.

A loud crack of thunder shook the eaves of the house and Don pressed the side of his face into his pillow and sighed. As if on cue, there was a tug on his blanket and now Don groaned.

"Charlie! Go back to your own bed."

But as if he hadn't heard him, the blanket lifted and his three-year-old brother crawled under the covers beside him, his back pressing against Don's chest. Don simply grunted and then another loud rumble reverberated outside and Charlie nearly vanished under the blanket with a small whimper.

"Chicken," Don said in a teasing voice and promptly oofed at the pointy elbow thrust into his midsection.

"Am not," came the piping reply.

"Are too," Don insisted with a grin and he slung his arm over Charlie to pull him nearer anyway.

Truth to be told, when he was three he'd spent a lot of nights in his parents' bed as well and most times, he didn't even need a thunderstorm for an excuse. But Charlie hardly ever went to their parents at night anymore. For the last year or so, it was always Don he came to at night and Don had to admit that he kind of liked this part of being a big brother. Of course, he always teased Charlie about it, like big brothers usually did, but it was nice to have someone to look up to you and to come to you for advice and help.

The rumbling in the sky slowly moved away and Don felt Charlie's weight settle beside him.

"Hey, how was class today?" he asked into the semi-darkness.

"Okay," Charlie whispered back after a moment.

It was a bit ridiculous for a three-year-old to have classes, Don thought. But a few weeks ago Charlie had shocked him and their parents as well by doing Don's math homework and _doing it right_. He'd just dared him to do some calculations because he wouldn't leave him alone, never expecting that Charlie could actually do it. Their parents thought this was quite exceptional, so every Friday Mom drove Charlie to a special teacher. Don had no idea what the teacher actually had Charlie do in those sessions, but his little brother seemed to like them. Their parents were excited about his progress, Don had heard them talk about it the other night and at the memory, he instantly felt a knot in his stomach.

He'd slunk down into the kitchen for a late night snack when he'd overheard his parents talking in the garage. There was one word in particular that made him feel uncomfortable: genius. Mom had said the special teacher thought Charlie was a math genius. Don knew what a genius was, someone who was really, really good at doing certain things. Someone who was really clever. But what if Charlie turned out to be a know-it-all? He wasn't really sure he would like that.

"Don?" Charlie asked sleepily.

"What, buddy?"

"Do you ever have jam in your head?"

"Jam in my head?" Don chuckled.

"Yeah, like too much stuff. I do."

"What's that like?" Don asked, genuinely interested.

"It's like... all these numbers flying around. Like... like a storm. And sometimes... sometimes I'm a little scared."

"Sometimes? Scared? A little?" Don's teasing voice was back and this time, he intercepted the well-aimed elbow thrust into his direction. His fingers slid under Charlie's arm and found his ribs and he started to tickle him mercilessly. Charlie squirmed and giggled, but the fun was cut short by a sharp rap against the door frame.

"Will you boys stop it?! It's late! Go to sleep!"

"Stopping, Mom," Don replied and let go of Charlie who just lay there on his back hiccuping and riding through the residual tremors and giggles. Don stayed still and listened until he heard their parents' bedroom door click shut again and he turned his head to Charlie.

"See, now you made Mom mad."

"Did not!" Charlie replied indignantly.

"Did too," Don said and yanked the blanket back up. Charlie turned over onto his side and scooted back once more until he was again pressed firmly into Don's chest.

"You know," Don said and threw his arm loosely over Charlie again, "just remember rule number one and you'll be okay."

"Rule number one?" Charlie's voice sounded a bit dreamy already.

"Yeah. Rule number one is that you can do anything, as long as you really put your mind into it. If you really want to, you can do it. Okay?"

But nothing but silence and the soft and regular respirations of his brother answered him and Don smiled, his mind once again straying back to baseball and his big day tomorrow. Rule number one would apply there, too. He was sure of it.

The End

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_This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at Numb3rsWriteOff on LiveJournal. After you've read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here: www . livejournal . com / poll / ?id1336963 (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty or schmoopy the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you're done, please check out the other challenge fic at Numb3rsWriteOff. Thank you!_


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